“Fits of weakness, are they?” Darnak laughed. “This is the first time he’s been shooting members of his own party. And he wasn’t too weak to toss you about, was he?”

“That goblin is no member of my party.”

Darnak’s eyes widened. “Oh, is that so? Then I suppose he should have left the Necromancer alive for you to kill.”

“Your tone borders dangerously close to treason, Darnak.”

The dwarf snorted. He looked ready to speak, but paused when he saw the fury in Barius’s bulging eyes and white lips. “Perhaps, Majesty,” he said. “I’m only trying to do my job and keep you alive.”

Barius smiled at this concession. “You are my tutor no longer. You were brought for your skill at arms, your experience in the bowels of the mountains, and your gift for cartography. If you find yourself unable to restrict yourself to these duties, you may wait here for my return.” He turned his back on the dwarf and ran his hands over the arms of the throne.

“Where are you going?” Jig asked. “And what’s a cartographer?” He couldn’t figure out what carts had to do with anything. Unless they planned to build a cart to carry the treasure out with them. That made sense.

“I am departing this accursed place,” Barius said. He tugged the top of the throne. Nothing happened, so he ripped out the cushions and began to poke and prod at the seat. “There may be a concealed passageway by the throne.”

“And how would you know that?” Riana asked.

Barius gave her a tolerant smile. “Common sense. At any time a ruler could find himself in need of a quick escape route. That truth is even more common for black-hearted lords such as this Necromancer, whose enemies are many. What better place to make your escape than through the throne itself?”

Jig’s brow wrinkled. “Is there a hidden door behind your father’s throne?”

“Of course not,” Barius said quickly. “My father is beloved by his subjects, and has no need to plan for escape.”

Perhaps Barius is adopted. For if the father were anything at all like the son, Jig couldn’t understand how he had survived long enough to walk upright, let alone to rule a country.

“Behold,” Barius said. His chest swelled with triumph. “The throne itself moves. Darnak, help me to shift it back.”

The dwarf lent his bulk to the task. Slowly the great throne scraped back a few inches, screeching like a tortured animal. Jig pinched his ears shut. Apparently Barius had been correct this time. Though if this was meant to be a quick escape route, why was it so hard to move the throne? Jig had a hard time imagining the diminutive Necromancer shoving the throne aside when Darnak and Barius together could barely move it.